I lift my hands, gesturing towards his bent over form as I look at Aamon. “Thank you!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Aamon scoffs. “Regardless of her reasoning for being here, the situation is delicate and needs to be handled as such. As in we aren’tfuckingthe girl.” He has blood trickling down the side of his face, his own breath heavy from the beating he let Sterling give him. “You’re as delusional as Quinn if you think you can talk your way into me letting you near her again.”
But Sterling shakes his head, swallowing hard as he straightens and pinches his eyes shut. “You don’t get it. She wasattacked, you asshole.”
The room goes quiet, the three of us waiting for him to explain. But I already know I’m going to hate the next words out of his mouth.
“Her father, he . . . exiled her. For being raped. Or nearly so.” He takes slow, calculated steps toward Aamon. “Byourkind. We did that to her. And now she has no home. Because her father left her at that border to die.” He lifts his bloody hand, pointing a finger towards the direction of the WildLands. “And you have the audacity to attack her, to spit your accusations at her face and wish her harm before even giving her the chance to explain.”
Aamon takes several moments to respond, Sterling standing in the middle of the common room with his hand raisedlike some sort of bloody omen. Finally, Aamon steps up to Sterling, setting his hand against his arm and lowering it.
“We did nothing, Sterling. Wedonothing. This isn’t our problem to fix.”
Sterling bristles, taken aback as if Aamon has just slapped him. And he may as well have. The words that roll off his tongue are so simple, so clean. But they are sharp as steel, as cold as ice. And I know we are talking to Aamon, the leader of the Blood Order. The son of the ungoverned district Alpha. The hardened fighter that was raised in this life and conditioned not to bat an eye at such violence. Not Aamon, our friend, our brother. Not the Aamon I’ve shared females with and watched let loose in the Market Ebon or bask in the feel of a bike beneath him and the wind in his face.
“Nothing?” Sterling whispers. There’s heat in his cheeks, fire in his eyes. “Is this not our job, Aamon? To ensure peace remains amidst the ungoverned district? To keep vermin like whoever attacked her from walking our streets?”
“Order,” Aamon responds.
“What?” Sterling is frenzied, wild. His hands are in the air, his feet shuffling as if he’s trying to stop himself from throwing another punch.
“We ensure order. We take care ofourkind. We keep the district running smoothly and currency coming in.” Aamon’s voice drops a level, a piece of that predatory creature within slipping out to reveal itself. “We do not playsavior for pretty little girls that had no business being within our territory to begin with.”
Sterling shakes his head. “I cannot believe you. You are better than this,weare better than this!”
“You do not speak for the Order,” Aamon sneers, stepping right up to Sterling. “But since you seem so keen on giving orders . . .” He reaches up to wipe away a drop of blood on Sterling’s forehead from where he hit the table. “I will reiterate yours.” He smears the blood between his thumb and his index and middle finger, before wiping it on the collar of Sterling’s shirt.
“Do not touch her again without my say-so,” he says at last, talking down his nose to Sterling. He turns his head slightly, to look first at Zeke, then at last to me. “Is that understood? No one fucks her, no one so much astouchesher without my permission. Not until we figure out what happened and why she’s here.”
“I’ve already told you—” Sterling starts, but Aamon holds up a hand, cutting him off.
“My order stands.” And without another word, he steps past Sterling, through the room. He pauses only to fix me with a glare that is laced with threatening intent, drilling home the severity in his order. He lifts his shirt, using the material to wipe away the blood still dripping down his face, and then disappears into the dark halls of our home.
The patrons of the bar let out a roar of cheers as I enter through the front doors. I lift a hand, giving them a forced smile to placate their excitement. It’s been another successful round in the rings and my victory single-handedly earned most of them their drinking money for the night. So I understand their desire to praise me.
But it makes me fucking sick. The way they cheer for violence, the way they crave blood. Two males died tonight. By my hand. And none of them care. They worship me instead, as if claiming those souls and watching the life drain from their eyes is some heroic feat to be celebrated.
I push through the crowd, swinging by the bar and taking the whiskey in Lafayette’s waiting, outstretched hand. I don’t say anything to him but he offers me a sympathetic smile, like he knows the weight these fights put on myshoulders. I don’t return the gesture, though. I don’t need anyone’s pity.
I beeline for our usual corner, plopping on the leather sofa and taking a long swig from the tumbler. When I pull the glass away, two females linger by Julian, our bouncer, in front of me. They are desperate, batting those fuck-me eyes my way as they twirl their pristine hair around their fingers. I wave to Julian, motioning for him to let them through. He obeys without hesitation and they quickly settle themselves on either side of me, their hands soon roaming the planes of my chest and thighs.
“Ladies.” I nod, draping my arm around the one on my right and bringing the whiskey to her lips. She takes a grateful sip, licking her lips when a small drop of the amber liquid dribbles down her chin.
I’m grateful for the distraction. My mind is reeling from another night of violence. And I know the only reason I was as successful as I was in my matches is because I cannot get my mind off the girl. Her presence here has me riled up in a way I cannot explain. It’s been seven days since she joined us, and she hasn’t even left her room once. I’d ordered my crew to leave her alone, but I’m not an idiot. I’m well aware that Sterling has been visiting her frequently, tending to her and caring for her every need.
I would rip him apart for disobeying a direct order, but if she’s not going to take care of herself, then someone has to.Better Sterling than me. She wouldn’t be nearly as content moping in her room if I was the one handling her.
The girl on my left buries her face in my neck, licking the sweat off my skin. It makes my jaw clench, lust burning through me at the same time I’m thinking abouther. I close my eyes, letting my head roll back as the female keeps working on me. And for one reckless moment, I picture what it would be like forherto be the one on me. It’s dangerous territory, associating the two. Andras made it more than clear that this is a finicky situation as is. What he doesn't know is how godsforsaken enticing she is to me. Quinn knows, hells, even Sterling can tell I think. But from the moment we found her, something has shifted in me.
I don’t know how and I don’t know why. But there’s something about her. Her scent, her fear. Her blood. I need it. And gods help me, because it’s the last thing I need to worry about right now.
“Aamon.” Quinn’s cool voice cuts through the music of the bar and I open my eyes to see him standing before me. His eyes are hard, his arms crossed over his chest in silent judgement.
“Quentin,” I return with the same tone. I let the corner of my lips tip up as I lean into the female on the left and give her another sip of whiskey. This time, when the excess liquid spills down her chin, I’m the one that licks it clean.
Quinn rolls his eyes at the exaggerated action, clearly not buying my show. “What are you doing?”
“Celebrating!” I force myself to answer cheerily, in an attempt to cover the self-loathing that is twining inside my gut. “You should be familiar with the action. Is this not your preferred method to let loose?” I gesture down to the females on either side of me and they giggle in response.
